Jennie Ensor - The Girl in His Eyes

She buzzed again. Finally, Laura’s voice came through the intercom. She pushed open the front door and stepped into the dark hall. The dank smell greeted her as it had the last time, and what looked to be the same pile of unclaimed envelopes lay on the floor against the wall. Slowly, she started to climb the stairs. Her legs were like dead weights. A coldness was spreading into her hands and feet, down into her fingers and toes. She reached the landing and walked towards Laura’s door. Dread circled her, drawing closer, a vulture about to land and feast on her defenceless body.

Laura was draped in a white towel. Her hair dripped water onto the carpet.

‘Hi, Mum. I was just in the shower.’

‘Hello, Laura.’ She stepped into the dark, cramped space, too small to be called a hall. ‘Sorry to turn up at such short notice, but I need to talk to you. Whenever I phone I get your voicemail.’

‘I disconnected the landline so the phone didn’t wake me up. I must have forgotten to switch it on again, sorry.’ Laura waved at the armchair. ‘Sit down, I won’t be long.’

The room was untidy and needed a good vacuum. There was a red rug on the floor now, which jollied the place up. On the coffee table, a vase holding a spray of white chrysanthemums, a wine glass imprinted with red lipstick.

Her daughter reappeared wearing faded jeans and a black T-shirt. Her feet were bare, exposing polished toenails. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and her face had no make-up. She could be seventeen again.

‘Cup of tea – PG tips or peppermint?’

‘I don’t mind, either.’

Suzanne followed Laura into the kitchen. She had an urge to busy herself, to pick up the tea towel and dry the two mugs that were upside down on the draining board, or to wipe up the crumbs around the toaster.

The kettle boiled. She watched her daughter prepare the tea. Under the fluorescent light, Laura’s face looked unhealthily pale.

‘What’s up, Mum? You didn’t come over just for a chat, did you?’

‘Let me sit down first.’ She took her tea to the armchair. The cushion still had a ripped cover. ‘I need to ask you something, Laura.’ She bit the inside of her mouth hard, girding herself to continue. ‘I don’t know how to say this.’

Laura stopped winding the strand of hair around her finger, and perched on the sofa.

‘What is it? Tell me.’

‘When you were growing up, did your father…’ She forced out the words. ‘Did he ever do anything… Did he ever do anything he shouldn’t have done, to you?’

The room darkened as the sun went behind a cloud. Laura sat perfectly still except for the movement of her chest as she breathed. Suzanne was about to repeat the question when Laura found her voice.

‘Why?’ Laura’s jaw tensed. ‘Has something happened?’

‘He’s been accused of something, something awful.’ She readied herself. ‘Jane’s daughter Emma – you remember he was taking her swimming? Well, after the last time they went to the pool, about six weeks ago, he took her back to our house. I was away for the weekend. Emma says your father touched her – indecently touched her. And then he – I don’t know how to say this… He had sex with her.’

A warm, itchy sensation crept up the base of Suzanne’s neck and into her face. She felt ashamed, as if she were the one who had been accused of this crime.

‘At first, I couldn’t believe it. Your father denied it all, said Emma was making it all up. Then I didn’t know what to believe—’

‘Oh, fuck.’ It was little more than a whisper. Laura sat rock-still, eyes fixed ahead, unseeing. ‘I didn’t think he would, I really didn’t.’

Suzanne recoiled.

‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ But she knew now, beyond doubt.

‘Yes, Emma’s telling the truth. I had an odd feeling about Dad taking Emma swimming. I wanted to tell you but I couldn’t, I didn’t think you’d be able to cope. I never thought he’d actually do anything—’

‘He abused you too, didn’t he?’

‘You really want to know?’

She tried to speak but only a grunt came out. She cleared her throat and tried again.

‘I need to know, darling. Please, tell me.’

Laura’s face changed. She had an absent, faraway look. The look she’d sometimes had as a child, wandering around the house as if lost in a perpetual daydream.

‘It started when I was about eleven, I guess. He started doing weird things. One morning, he came into my room when I was getting dressed – I only had my knickers on – he didn’t go away, he stood there looking at me. I just looked back at him, I didn’t know what else to do.’ Laura ran her fingers through her hair. Her gaze skittered about the room. ‘After that, he did other things.’

Suzanne’s finger went to her mouth. Her teeth bit down hard, searching for bone.

‘What things?’

The words swarmed from Laura’s mouth like a plague of insects. She wanted to block them out but she listened to the end. So, her husband had lied to her all along. And she had believed him, she had always believed him. She tried to imagine how it had been for Laura, Paul’s hands on her body like that. Bile entered her mouth. She needed to retch.

The next question formed in her mind, one she dared not voice.

Laura bit her lower lip. ‘I didn’t want to tell you, I knew how much it would upset you.’

She had to ask it though. ‘Is there anything else? Did he do anything else? Did he ever touch you… inside?’

‘No, I don’t think so. He used to complain when I wore my black gym knickers. He said they weren’t sexy. What is it?’

‘So, he didn’t… he didn’t ever have sex with you?’ The question erupted from her like a piece of indigestible food.

‘No. The worst thing he ever did…’ Laura’s voice trailed off. She looked uncertain.

‘Tell me. I must know everything.’

‘It only happened once. I was alone in the house with him. He came into my room and took off his dressing gown. He made me do things.’

Her heart stopped. ‘What things?’

‘He asked me to touch him. His penis. Then he asked me to put it in my mouth. He’d been drinking whisky. I was so scared, I didn’t think to say no.’ Laura’s voice was so quiet her words were barely audible. ‘I tried to forget that night, Mum. For years I just tried to forget it ever happened.’

She saw the pain in her daughter’s eyes, borne for so long, hidden for so long, and yet so obvious now. She tried to speak but the words stayed trapped inside her. How could this have happened? How could her own husband have done such an unspeakable thing?

Laura leaned into the base of the sofa, head dropped, eyes closed, her face so pale and beautiful. Neither of them spoke for a long time.

‘It was weird,’ Laura said, as if talking to herself. ‘Like suddenly he’d become a total stranger. It freaked me out. I wish I’d told him to fuck off out of my room, to get the hell away from me. But I didn’t – I couldn’t.’

Suzanne gripped the armrest. The room was breaking up into a jumble of disconnected shapes, as it did whenever she had a bad migraine attack. The vase glittered savagely. Above it, an array of white, stalk-less heads. A rectangular wedge of table floated over a bright red square of rug.

‘Mum, are you alright? Mum? Say something.’

She couldn’t answer. She’d been taken to an alien planet. All that was safe and familiar had vanished. Or was she losing her mind? That would be welcome now. She shut her eyes. Yes, she would just drift off into a parallel world, one where bad things didn’t happen. This one was too difficult, too painful. How was she supposed to keep on going, knowing what she knew?

From somewhere far away came Laura’s voice, now laced with fear.